


Guardian

by SuicideToro



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuicideToro/pseuds/SuicideToro
Summary: Kanda remembers the boy with the Yoshi rabbit sweater who often comes into the convenience store he works in to buy questionable things, but he would never have imagined how their lives would one day collide and intertwine.





	1. Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> I'm porting this over here from my Bite Sizes fic because it's becoming a three-part fic! Guardian is my most emotionally challenging fic, as it deals heavily with themes of domestic, psychological and sexual abuse, themes that I have never written before and had never thought I could handle in fear of offending someone. It both pains me and gives me joy to write about it. I hope it channels to you a feeling of hope and courage.  
> In case you skipped it, THERE IS DOMESTIC, PSYCHOLOGICAL AND SEXUAL ABUSE IN THIS FIC. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION PLEASE.

You look at this guy. By now, you recognize him. He’s wearing that blue sweater with the stupid cartoon Yoshi rabbit on it. The jingle of that cartoon is bloody disgusting, and the sight of its creepy smile makes you a little ill. Basically, this guy is a walking annoyance.

He slowly picks up a box of Sensous Light condoms from the counterside display and places it on the counter.

“Just these, please.”

His voice is deep but small. He’s actually pretty tall, slightly taller than you even, but acts timid, like he’s trying to fold in on himself and disappear like a magic card trick. He’s been in here steadily for the past year, and you know he lives around the area, but you never knew where exactly. You don’t even know the colour of his eyes. That’s kinda damned, because he even goes to your school but is one year ahead of you.

Not your fault though. When he walks into the convenience store you work part-time in, he usually buys condoms and lube. Occasionally he buys a Coke and cigarettes, sometimes the weekly Jump makes it on the shopping list too, but every time without fail, condoms. And. Lube.

If he’s trying to be inconspicuous in the world, he’s not getting anywhere with his shopping patterns. Doing the exact opposite, in fact. However, most guys who come in for contraceptives generally act fishy. And you’ve seen all types before. Prepubescent boys to men in business suits who come in looking left and right, shuffling nervously around the magazine section, and lo and behold, they put a porn mag on the counter and look guiltily away. It’s laughable. You don’t keep track of every hormone-crazed teen who drops by between faps, but this redheaded guy comes in frequently enough and buys enough rubber for you to remember him.

Or maybe it’s just that fucking sweater he likes to wear so much.

“$11 please,” you say. You can’t help but glare at him a bit. He makes you feel uncomfortable, in a way you can never put your finger on. He has never looked at you in the eye when he was buying his happy-time stuff. That’s why you have never properly seen his face before. The way he acts so ashamed buying that stuff makes you feel sorry for the loser. He hasn’t figured out that everyone else in the fucking planet has sex and masturbates too.

He pays you by putting the money on the counter instead of your hand. That pisses you off big time. You give him a nasty look, and he looks straight at you. In that second, you catch a glimpse of his surprised face, but only for a split second. His mouth opens and closes, and he lowers his face. You sweep the money into the till and turn around to restock the shampoos. You hear him hesitate behind you, and then leave. The day moves on. 

* * *

 

It is three days until you see him again, under the goddamn strangest circumstances. It is almost midnight and raining cats and dogs. Your shift is over, but your midget colleague has not yet arrived to take over. You’re quietly reading Wikis on types of swords while waiting for the idiot to show up when you hear the whoosh of the store entrance opening. You look up. Your jaw drops. 

Dripping wet Rabbit Boy is staggering in, wearing his signature sweater. He sways from side to side like a tree and clutches his stomach as if in pain. You jump up from your seat as he wobbles to the counter and collapses. He tries valiantly to grab onto the candy bar shelf and brings it down with him, scattering a sea of Snickers and Mentos around his curled-up body on the pristine tile floor. Shit. 

You crouch by his side and shake him. “Hey! Hey, Rabbit!” He curls up more and groans loudly. You suddenly think, bloody fuck, a weirdo gets himself stabbed, crawls into your store and dies in a puddle on the newly mopped floor, the cops show up, a big mess ensues, you most likely lose your job… Just because the next guy is late. Where the fuck is Allen fucking Walker!? 

The guy on the floor grabs your wrist. He mutters something, and you have to lean close to hear it. “G-Gastric…” he moans.

You leap up and dash to the medicine shelves. Thankfully, you know exactly where the Alka-Seltzers are. You prop the guy up against the counter, grab a bottle of unrefridgerated mineral water and pop him the number of pills as per the instructions on the box. He takes them and presses his forehead on his knees, letting out occasional low moans. 

Right then, a certain asshat waltzes in. 

“Christ, Bakanda, it’s pouring out there and I was stuck at tuition for half an hour, so it’s certainly not my fault I– what on earth???” He stares at the body on the floor and then at you in horror. “You did it, didn’t you? You’ve killed a customer and he’s dying right here next to the deodorants. On MY shift!" 

"Don’t be a dumbass, Moyashi. He came in like that. Gastric problems. I gave him some–" 

"Whoa, hold on, he walked all the way here in the rain like this?” Walker stares at him, and then peers closer at his face. “Hey, isn’t this our senior? Third year? I see him in the library all the time." 

You scowl. "I  _know_  he’s a senior. Got any useful information, like his address maybe?" 

"Nope. I think he’s rich though? I’ve seen him getting picked up by a sweet sleek Rolls Royce after school sometimes." 

"Great, that is a lot of help. Well, your problem now." 

"Wait, what?!?” the small fry yelps, following you behind the counter. “He came in on your shift, so why do you get to walk away like it’s none of your business?" 

"Well, technically it’s YOUR shift, only you came in almost twenty minutes late, idiot. I’m done here." 

"BaKanda, for god’s sake, look at him." 

Both of you do look at the guy forming a lake on the tiles. Red hair plastered to his face, freckles standing out on pale skin, curled-up shivering body, you have to admit he makes a very pitiful sight. Besides, you know the store manager Komui would throw a hissy fit if you force Moyashi to close store in order to take care of this guy.

You grudgingly agree to look after the guy while Moyashi mans the cashier. The rabbit boy stops moaning after a while and falls into a deep sleep. After an hour, the rain stops and the last few customers leave. Moyashi offers to take care of the guy so you can go home. You pack up and tell Moyashi to make sure the dude pays for the medicine before you leave for the night.

* * *

 

You look up, and for the first time, you know the colour of his eyes. They are green, not just the typical murky green-brown, but a startlingly clear shade of malachite. He grins sheepishly at you.

“Hi. I wanted to thank you for your help that day. My name is Lavi.” He extends a hand towards you uncertainly. You look at it, and then at him.

“Thanks accepted.” 

He drops his hand. You expect him to leave, but he just stands there awkwardly. “I also want to apologize for the time I put the money on the counter. I really didn’t intend to be rude,” he says quietly. 

You nod curtly. He fidgets. You turn around to tend to your work.

“Wait! I didn’t get your name?”

You turn around and eye him. When it seems like he wouldn’t leave until he gets your name, you sigh and say, “Kanda.”

“Kanda.” He nods and smiles at you. “I see. Don’t we go to the same school? Which year are you in?”

“None of your business,” you snap at him.

Thankfully, another customer approaches the cash counter, and you seize the opportunity to do your job. The rabbit boy seems to get that he’s in the way, and backs off with a wave.

You can’t help but cringe at the thought of how fucking awkward it’s going to be if he talks to you the next time he comes in for his hanky-panky shit.

* * *

 

The next day, you see him at school. He seems to be decently popular, as he’s surrounded by a small group of boys and girls whom he talks and laughs with. He looks like a different person from the meek guy who buys boxes of condoms and lube at one go.

He sees you down the hallway. His eyes alight with some strange mixture of joy and fear. He looks like he’s torn between coming over to you and running away in the opposite direction. He probably doesn’t want his dear friends to find out about his dirty secrets.

You walk away from the scene.

After school, in the convenience store, he comes. This time, again, he does not buy condoms and shit. Instead, he buys a fruit juice pack and lingers annoyingly at the counter.

“Hey, Kanda, which class are you in?” “What are your hobbies?” “You’ve been working here for pretty long, haven’t you? How long?” “Have you seen any of the movies at the cinema this week? Like, how about Fast and Furious 4, what do you think about it?”

He bombards you with questions and it’s way too tiring to even entertain him. You drop your customer service slice of patience and let your irritation show on your face. You decide you’re allowed to ask questions yourself.

“What do you buy those lube and condoms for?” you ask as innocently as you can.

He gasps and draws back immediately. His hands fidget at the hem of his shirt. He looks absolutely tongue-tied. Mumbling something incoherent, he turns and leaves the store.

Good riddance, you think smugly. Now there will be peace.

You see neither hide nor hair of him in a few days, then suddenly he pops into the convenience store. You immediately notice an ugly bruise on his cheek, but he seems sunny. He buys a sandwich and chats to you merrily about scoring nineties in his test that day. It isn’t until you pick up a broom and threaten to physically remove him from the store that he leaves, but not without a laugh and a promise to visit again.

It becomes a sort of routine. He shows up after school and spends an hour or two hanging around talking to you, even if you ignore him. He seems to just enjoy your company, which fucking baffles you. After some time, you decide he has two good arms and start directing him to help you shift large boxes of stock and rearrange stuff on shelves. He does so without complaint, and even starts chatting up Moyashi when you work the double shift. The first time he calls you Yuu, you chase both him and Moyashi around the store and give them matching bumps on the head.

Then he does not appear, neither in school nor in the store, for almost a week.

* * *

 

When he does, he comes into the store in the evening, wearing the rabbit sweater. You want to comment on it aloud, and maybe slip in a casual question about where he’d gone to, but he doesn’t talk to you. Doesn’t even look at you. He just goes straight to the counterside display, randomly picks out some items, and puts them in front of you.

The Durex Pleasure Pack this time, and some sort of normal lube.

You look sceptically at him, but he doesn’t even lift his face. His fingers grip the hem of his sweater nervously. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He reaches into his wallet for money, but his hand hovers in the air, as if he isn’t sure where the money should go.

You would be damned if you’d let him be rude to you again. You hold out your palm.

He looks at you then, just briefly, but you catch sight of his eyes. They’re bloodshot and puffy, and he looks like he’s been crying for days. Before you could process this fact, he puts the money in your hand. His fingers linger for a split second too long against your palm, then he shivers and withdraws his hand as if you’d burnt him. He scurries away with his goods.

It is as if the friendship he had tried to build between him and you was a false memory.

He is at school the next day, but you don’t see anyone with him. He withdraws into himself and walks around like a ghost.

After the last bell, you see him again as he walks towards the gate, eyes on the ground. A lamppost is in his way, but he does not see it. You stalk over and grab the back of the git’s collar before he walks right into the obstacle.

He looks at you. His eyes light up, and he grins widely.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, his voice impossibly soft.

You scowl and thump his head, and he laughs heartily.

His gaze shifts to somewhere behind you. Suddenly, his happy expression vanishes, replaced with something akin to dread, and his body tenses. He quickly lowers his face.

You turn around to look, and there in front of the school gate is a shining black Rolls Royce. The tinted back window winds down, and a man with a long wavy ponytail and dark skin waves with a gloved hand. His mouth is smiling, but his yellow eyes are not.

Lavi’s body seems to shrink as he walks right pass you without so much as a glance. You think, this is how he looks like when he buys his usual from the store. Timid. Afraid. The back car door opens, and he gets in. The Rolls Royce rolls away.

You think about the rabbit boy more than you should for the remainder of the day.

That night, you get ready to close up when he comes in. The sweater looks as ugly as ever, but this time it is also torn in a few places. His nose is bloodied, and his face is littered with purple bruises. His right eye is swollen shut. Yet he does not look like he cares. He walks in like a zombie, goes unexpectedly to the coolers, and pulls out a can of beer. He downs about half of it in huge, messy gulps by the time you get to him.

“Hey!” you hiss, grabbing him roughly by the arm. “What the fuck are you doing?”

His hand goes into his jeans pocket and he flings a handful of bills and coins onto the floor, pushes you away, and grabs another can.

You grab him by the sweater collar and haul him towards the back room. He doesn’t even put up a fight. You throw him down hard on the floor in the semi-darkness, and he groans as he lands on his butt. The beer can flies out of his hand, lands on the floor, and Bud Light fizzles everywhere.

“Fuck off!” he yells at you, shoving you away hard.

You raise your hand to hit the fucker. He ducks and covers his head with his arms, making a piteous noise. A sharp smell of ammonia hits you, and you look down to see a dark patch spreading at the crotch of his jeans. You can’t believe he pissed himself. It makes you stare at him, and you realize his whimpering had become desperate sobs. His shoulders shake and shake as he cries into the crook of his arm. Whatever had fucked him up had fucked him up bad.

You take off your jacket and throw it over his shivering body. You watch him clutch it helplessly, still sobbing, as you quickly mop up the floor and turn off the main power. You practically drag him outside to your car after closing up. Your jacket is used by you as a seat protector as he curls up in the back on the way to your apartment.

* * *

 

When you get there, you throw a couple of towels over your couch and drop him there. Out of the kindness of your stone-cold heart, you try to remove his dirtied, torn clothes, but he clutches the stupid sweater like only death could wrench his hands off it and trembles.

Finally, you just leave him a towel and a change of clothes and point him to the bathroom before going into your room to change. When you re-emerge, he is missing and you hear the shower going off to the hum of the water heater. You sit on the couch and take a nap. He comes out wearing one of your long-sleeved shirts and a pair of slacks, towel slung over his wet hair. You move to make room for him to sit, and he perches on the very end of the couch like he is about to take flight at any moment.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, Yuu,” he says softly. His voice is still nasally from crying.

You sit still and quiet, and ponder what to say.

“Did that man in the Rolls Royce do this to you?” you ask solemnly.

His silence is enough of an answer to make your throat tighten.

“Has this happened before?”

More silence.

“How long has this been going on?”

He takes a shaky breath. “Since he adopted me. It’s been almost…ten years.”

Ten years. He’d been around eight or nine when the abuse started.

“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “He’s a powerful politician. He’s got corrupt officers on his side. He warns me often not to even try.”

“What about friends? Social workers? Teachers?”

“He attends PTA meetings and gives the appearance of a perfect gentleman. About once every year or two, he buys a new house and we move to another neighbourhood. Anyone who knows has been left behind, and none of them can do anything about it.”

Lavi hugs his dirty sweater close to him. “I’ve tried running away, but I can’t get far. He sends his bodyguards after me. I don’t have money. I can’t get a job without a guardian’s permission. I can’t escape the hellhole of a home he forces me to live in.”

He buries his face in the fabric. “He hits me whenever he’s in a bad mood. Once, he held a knife inches away from my face and laughed. If I cry, he hits harder. If I try to fight back, his bodyguards hold me down while he kicks me. Sometimes he locks me in a room for a day and a half and only lets me out when I’m begging in pain.”

You remember the rainy night he came into the store with gastric pain. Your fists clench and shake.

“What else does he do?” you ask as levelly as you can.

Lavi’s arms are tight around his body as he starts to cry. His face is beet-red, and he shakes and shakes with the force of his crying.

“I-If I don’t g-get an-any cond-doms or l-l-lube, then h-he just f-f-f-fucks me raw and it h-hurts, it… I h-hate…” The rest of his words are drowned in his cries.

Different feelings flush through you, threatening to strangle you. Your chest hurts in an almost physical manner. All this time, you should have noticed the wrongness in the way he acts when he’s buying those items. Like he hates himself for buying them. Like he hates being alive.

You looked, but you did not see.

You move forward to touch his shoulder, but he jumps and flinches away.

“Don’t t-touch me,” he sobs. "D-dirty."

You scowl. Slowly, you clutch his shoulders. When he does not move away, you pull him to your chest stiffly.

Without another word, you let him cry himself to sleep in your arms, before draping a blanket over him and going to bed.

You wake up the next morning and come out of your room. He is lying on your couch, half-asleep. He hears you and looks up with a scared expression.

“Are you going to kick me out now?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head and hands him a glass of water from the kitchen. As he drinks, you go to your bathroom and come back with your first-aid kit. He looks at the kit and mutters something about you missing school, but you ignore him and sit down. For the next fifteen minutes, you both are silent as you apply ointment to his wounds and bruises.

After putting away the kit, you come back to him and put your hands on your hips.

“That should be washed before you contract the bubonic plague from it,” you say decisively, pointing to the sweater he’s holding.

He looks horrified. “No way, Yoshi rabbit stays with me,” he protests, holding it away from you as if it is a baby he’s protecting.

“That fucking rabbit ought to be shot for being an eyesore and a nightmare to children,” you growl. “You’re going to need to wash it before you can mend it, idiot. It stinks to high heaven.”

Lavi wrinkles his nose at the slander, but reluctantly hands it to you. He possessively follows you to the washing machine and sits on the floor while watching it tumble around and around.

“My mother gave me that sweater,” he suddenly says. “It’s the one thing I have left that gives me solace. As long as I have it with me, I remember why I must fight back. My mom wanted me to be the happiest kid in the world.”

You nod and lean back against the counter with a cup of coffee. After a few moments, you say, “Yoshi rabbit is still fucking hideous though.”

For the first time since last week, you get to hear Lavi’s laugh again.

You two have home-cooked noodles for lunch. He finds some thread and a needle after damn near flipping your house inside out. You read a bit while he mends his freshly laundered sweater. He doesn’t do a good job and keeps poking himself, so you, being the jerk you are, tease him for it incessantly. When he’s done, you fry some eggs and rice for dinner and he helps by tossing a salad. After you eat, you pull some beer from the fridge and crack a cold one with him.

It’s almost nine when he suddenly looks at the clock and leaps to his feet.

“Oh, shit!” He grabs his sweater and backpack in a panic. “Fuck, fuck, he’s going to  _kill_  me!”

You grab his arm. “Stay here,” you tell him firmly.

His eyes are wide with fear. “No, Yuu,” he mumbles, “If he finds out where I was, where I am, you’re going to get into trouble, or he’s going to make me move away again.”

“You said if you go back now, he’s going to beat you up again.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it, I would rather—“

“No.”

You grasp his shoulders firmly and shake them a little.

“Listen,” you say in a set tone. “It’s not okay.” You grip the fabric of his sweater. “It’s not okay,” you repeat.

He looks at the sweater, and then at you. Resolve comes into his eyes, and he nods.

He stays the night on your couch.

* * *

 

The next day, you skip school again as you bring him to the police station. He wears one of your hoodies and an orange scarf to hide his face. To be safe, you wear a cap and shades. Neither of you see any suspicious cars on your way.

The cops talk to him, and although he is very rigid and reluctant to open up, you prod him until he shows them his wounds. He pulls his shirt up and you can see old scars and fading bruises over his torso. You feel him withdrawing from the shame and fear, and you reach out to pat his hand in reassurance. He blushes and smiles a little at you.

The officers explain that in order for Lavi to leave his foster father’s house, he would need a temporary guardian, as he is not yet 18. This is news to you, because he’s one year ahead of you. Lavi meekly explains that he skipped a grade because of his good results. You call him a wiseass under your breath, and he relaxes a little at your attempted humour.

The problem of who could be a temporary guardian comes up. You look at Lavi.

“I turned eighteen yesterday. With the help of my parent, can I be his temporary guardian?” you ask the officer.

Lavi’s jaw drops open. He stares at you like he cannot believe his ears. The officers look a bit sceptical, but they shuffle some papers and inform you that with the help of a senior adult who can vouch for your ability to become a guardian in court, then you could try filing a petition in court.

You immediately call your father, who is a seasoned lawyer. As predicted, the second he answers, he starts crying and grumbling that you never call home.

In the middle of his tirade, you say, “Dad, I would like to temporarily adopt a friend.”

You answer a hundred and one questions, but ultimately your father seems relieved that you decided, for once in your life, to rely on him to help you with something big. He promises to visit tomorrow so you can discuss how to fill out a petition for Appointment of Temporary Guardian for Minor in court. He’s sure that Lavi’s foster father will contest it, so the court hearing might be more complicated than you think.

“We only need three months. After that, he’ll be free,” you say.

The police give you a stack of papers and tell you to go through them if you’re trying to petition. You thank them and drag Lavi, who is still in a daze, out of the police station.

That night, Lavi knocks on your door at midnight and tells you he can’t sleep. You let him in, and he sits gingerly on your bed before you lie back down and tell him to do the same.

He lies down beside you. In the semi-darkness, you see his eyes gleaming faintly.

“So much is happening, Yuu,” he says breathlessly. “For the first time, someone cares enough to go this far to help me, and I let them. This never happened before. Sometimes I can see they want to help, but I reject them because I’m scared he’ll hurt them.”

He turns to his side and faces you. “I’m terrified that you’ll be taken away from me, too,” he whispers.

You lace your fingers through his. “I won’t. I’m your guardian. I’ll protect you.”

Lavi sighs and nuzzles closer. You close your eyes. In your dreams, you chase away his nightmares.

Both of you sleep soundly that night.


	2. Tormentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavi's old demons return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! I originally planned it to be just one sequel chapter, but I ran out of time to write it, as I'm taking a long vacation tomorrow. Besides, it was becoming longer than expected, so I broke it into two parts to build some suspense. This part is a little sappy, but the third part is going to be... well. You'll see later.  
> There is DOMESTIC, PSYCHOLOGICAL AND SEXUAL ABUSE IN THIS FIC. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION PLEASE.

It is late, but you cannot sleep.

Your bedroom door creaks open, almost imperceptibly quiet. You hold your breath. Footsteps pad softly closer. You think it’s frighteningly unnatural, how he can be so silent, yet so loud, both at the same time. It makes your heart pound so hard in your chest. A warm hand is on your head, caressing your hair gently, lovingly. He is so close that you can smell the drink on his tongue.

There is the familiar rustling of clothes, and the mattress dips under his weight as he crawls under the covers behind you, naked. His arms wrap around your body.

_“My dear,”_ he croons into your ear. _“My most beloved child.”_

He always says he loves you. You do not understand his painful, complex, adult love. You have never understood.

_“Turn towards me, darling.”_

You are as stiff as a doll with fear, but you force yourself to turn around. You know what to do, what to say. He has beaten it into you.

_“Papa.”_

* * *

 

You roar to consciousness and sit up straight in bed, breathing heavily. Your fingers dig and twist into your sheets blindly. The memory of him is so close, so fresh, that you lift your eyes to the door, expecting to see it open like a yawning mouth to Hell.

You are ten, and he’s just outside in the living room, pouring himself an after-supper drink from a crystal decanter of bourbon while he reads the paper. At precisely eleven, when the antique grandfather’s clock in the parlour chimes loudly, he’ll fold the paper with precise movements, place it on the mahogany table with his reading glasses on top of it, and come to your room.

He is here, now.

For a few gut-wrenching moments, you just sit there, watching the door, waiting. Your stomach threatens to rebel and you put shaking hands over your mouth and stomach. It takes minutes of nothing happening for you to convince yourself he’s not really outside your door right now.

_It’s just a memory_ , you tell yourself. _That happened ten years ago. He’s in custody now. There’s no way he’s here. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone._

When your heart calms down a bit and stops feeling like it’s going to rip right out of your chest, you wipe the beaded sweat off your brow and stumble out of bed. You turn on every single light between your room and the kitchen on your way there. You feel better when it’s so bright. You pour yourself a little milk from the refrigerator and gulp it greedily down your parched throat.

“Lavi?”

You turn around so fast that the glass in your hand goes flying. It shatters harshly on the tiles of the kitchen floor a foot away, and the sound jangles your nerves so much that you feel as if the glass was part of your sanity, broken now and will never be recovered. You stare with a scream of hysteria bubbling up your throat like vomit.

You were wrong and _he is here_.

He stands completely still, staring directly at you. Slowly, the juxtaposed image of _him_ fades away, like the vague neon-coloured imprints left in your vision after staring too long at the sun, and it leaves you looking into the face of the man you love.

You whisper his name like a dying wish, and Yuu comes to you.

He sweeps a very concerned gaze all over you. “Are you okay?” he asks, softer than you ever heard him speak. His hands hover over your shoulders uncertainly. When you do not seem to reject him, he touches you, and you slump against the kitchen counter like his touch had lifted a curse.

“I’m okay,” you mumble as you lean forward into his arms and rest your head on his strong shoulder. “I just had… a bad dream.”

He sighs deeply and runs his hands over your back in soothing circles. “I should have expected this, with the hearing going on tomorrow. I would have asked you to sleep with me tonight. Sorry.”

You shake your head slightly. “It’s not your fault, Yuu. I’m a wreck tonight. Nothing was going to keep those nightmares at bay.”

He looks at you and frowns, and the divot between his eyebrows, that stubborn divot that you find so endearing, appears.

“Not even me?” he asks sullenly.

You find yourself calm enough to give him a wobbly smile. “No, not even you, love. However, I wouldn’t mind you trying this ‘asking me to sleep with you tonight’ psychotherapy now.”

“You’re sure it would help?”

You both glance at the kitchen clock. It’s already 2 a.m. Both of you have to be in court at ten. You know you’re going to be in a shithole tomorrow morning and you should try to get some sleep beforehand, but your heart is saying, hold on to Yuu. Hold on to this man, because you love him, and after tomorrow, you don’t know if he’ll still love you back.

You throw your arms over Yuu’s shoulders and kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “Yeah,” you murmur into his ear. “I’m sure.”

Both of you make quick work of the broken glass and spilt milk in the kitchen, and then tumble into Yuu’s bed with a soft urgency. He makes love to you with a wonderful tenderness, as if he’s afraid you would break in his embrace. His careful touches burn the ghosts of the unwanted caresses off your skin. His name, which he allows only you to utter with such intimacy, spills from your lips like a reverent prayer as you cling onto him. God, you never want to let go.

Afterwards, you lay with his arms wrapped loosely around you, listening to his gentle snores. It’s 3:30 in the morning. You close your eyes, hoping to get some shuteye, but when the darkness consumes you, all you can feel is old fear dripping into you, icy water from a faulty tap. You end up half-awake, just watching the door.

It is late, but you cannot sleep.

 

 

At six o’clock, Yuu wakes up to an empty bed. He finds you in the bathroom, throwing up as silently as you can. You feel like your stomach is turning inside-out and emptying itself out of you. He rubs your back and waits patiently until you have nothing left to sick up. Then, he helps you to get a glass of water and tucks you into bed.

You look up at him, and he sees everything in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says softly as he strokes your forehead. “You don’t have to go.”

Your relief is so great that you burst into tears.

 

* * *

 

Tiedoll, who is Yuu’s father and your counsellor, arrives after Yuu calls him. He calmly tells you that it’s not uncommon for victims of rape and abuse to decide not to appear in court, especially if the accused is a friend or family member. The judge and jury can sympathize on how stressful it is for the victim to face their abuser, and thus some leeway is given.

“We’ve got the policeman, Johnny Gill, testifying based on what you first told him at the police station. We’ve got photos of your old scars. We’ve got testimonies from your neighbours and teachers. These are the circumstantial evidence we can use to nail Kamelot down. So, you don’t have to testify if you don’t want to, son.”

You only nod mutely at Tiedoll and curl up in the bed. He pats your arm and leaves the bedroom. He and Yuu hold a hushed conversation in the living room, and you hear the front door shut. A moment later, Yuu reappears in the bedroom. He climbs into bed and spoons you.

“Lavi,” he whispers into your ear, and it’s so raw with emotion that you feel like crumbling. You want to ask if it’s a bad thing that you’re not in court, testifying against that monster; if it’s a bad thing that you’re a fucking coward.  You want to ask if you’re letting him down, or if he’s ashamed of having a boyfriend who’s so broken and twisted that he could hardly look at himself in the mirror to brush his teeth.

However, these kinds of questions cannot be asked aloud. You know this in your heart. Yuu would not tell you the horrible, bright truth in his heart if it means hurting you, and there is nothing you can do. Nothing. You let him fit his body against yours and pull you close, anchoring you.

 

 

Later in the day, Tiedoll pays you another visit. His face is very grave. You search his eyes for answers.

“How did the trial go?” you ask, your stomach twisting in anxiety. “I want to know the details.”

“It was not as favourable as it could have been,” Tiedoll admits regretfully. “The first witness the defence called was a police officer who had taken a statement from the headmaster of your school, Kevin Yeegar. In that statement, Yeegar said that Kamelot had not only donated a lot of funds to the ‘cause of education’, but also showed up regularly for PTA meetings. The defence was trying to paint the rosy picture of Kamelot being a perfectly responsible foster father to Lavi.”

Tiedoll turns to look at you. “The second witness was Sheril Kamelot’s daughter, Road Kamelot.”

Yuu blinks in surprise. “You had a foster sister? You never told me.”

You shake your head, reeling from the fact that they made Road show up at the trial. “She and I were never close. She studies at a private boarding school and only comes home once every few months.”

“Her testimony proved to be strong against our prosecution,” says Tiedoll sadly. “She testified that her father had never touched her inappropriately or abused her in any way. She finds him to be a strong Christian man who is morally just and could never sin with such gravity before the judging eyes of God.”

“He dotes on her,” you say quietly. “She’s his precious princess. Anything she wants, he’ll serve up to her on a silver platter. She… I don’t think she knew about the abuse. He was always careful never to let her find out. He would have killed me if I said a word about it to her, and I saw no reason to taint her mind. She’s too young to know.”

You lower your head and close your eyes. “Sheril testified too, didn’t he?” you ask without looking up. “I want to know what he said.”

You feel Tiedoll rest a hand on your shoulder kindly. “It’s best you don’t know, son. The things he said in his own defence… they’re not words that should come from a human being.”

Your hands clench into tight fists. Do you really want to know? Is the truth worth knowing when it hurts you? You can choose to live the rest of your life having _nothing_ more to do with that monster. You don’t have to let him hurt you anymore.

But that’s a lie you tell yourself. Weak are the ones who turn a deaf ear to the truth. Deep down, you know you ought to know. You have a _right_ to know what has been said of you.

“Tell me, Uncle Tiedoll.”

“I…” Tiedoll takes off his spectacles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “He claimed that you were always trying to seduce him, because you’re a… homosexual.”

You feel like your breath has been sucked out of your lungs. Yuu instantly has a hand on your back, even as he tenses in anger. “Dad—”

Your hand shoots out to grab a corner of his T-shirt. He stops and presses his lips into a thin, contained line.

Tiedoll looks from his son to you with a troubled expression. Seeing the resolution in your eyes, he continues to speak.

“He said that from a young age, you were always partial to the company of other boys. He claimed to have seen you staring at male classmates with lust.  Being curious about sex, you used your innocence as a child to openly seduce him, and when he rejected your advances, you sought his attention by inflicting wounds on yourself. He even said Yuu…”

The man hesitates, but this time, Yuu is the one who levels him with a venomous stare.

“Tell me what that animal said,” he growls lowly.

“…He said that Lavi must have used those wounds to invoke your pity, so he could worm his way into your life, and probably into your, uhm, bed.” Yuu’s father looks down in remorse. “I’m sorry, but without Lavi’s testimony, that was enough to plant a seed of doubt in the jury’s mind. There wasn’t a unanimous vote, and a retrial was scheduled for early December.”

Yuu’s palms slam on top of the table hard. His face looks like a stormcloud is passing it. “ _Motherfucker!!_ ” he shouts in fury. He kicks a chair so hard, it falls with a loud crack that makes you flinch.

“Yuu! You’re scaring Lavi!”

Yuu goes completely still and looks at you. He takes in your hunched, shaking shoulders and wet eyes. You can hear the rage still boiling under his skin in his shaky exhales. He turns away from you and runs his hands through his bangs exasperatedly, trying to calm down for your sake. Without another word, he opens the door to his study and leaves the room.

You know he’s only cooling off, but cold dread seizes your heart and you feel like he is leaving you for good. It is the worst feeling you have ever felt in your life. You want to run after him and scream for him to come back, come back for you.

“I’m sure Yuu’s trying his best to calm down, Lavi.” Tiedoll’s placating voice seems to float to you from somewhere far away. “He’s only angry at Sheril Kamelot. He knows you didn’t do any of what Kamelot said. None of this is your fault.”

“I know.” Your own voice comes out wrong, so small and pained. You wipe at your eyes tiredly and stand up. “I’m sorry, Uncle Tiedoll. Thank you so much for helping me with the trial. I’m going to… lie down now.”

“Of course. It’s been a hard day for you. I understand, son.”

Tiedoll gives you a fatherly hug before leaving. After seeing him to the door, you go to the bedroom and flop onto the bed like a ragdoll.

Outside, the sun is just setting, and vivid vermillion spills into the room from the crack between the curtains. It’s beautiful.  

The light is warm, but you feel so cold.

 

 

The stars are out by the time the bedroom door creaks open behind you. You feel Yuu slip into the bed. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you to his warm body. The ice in your bones starts to thaw.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers.

You feel hot tears welling up in your eyes again. You roll your eyes upwards and blink repeatedly to hold them back as you ponder how to say what you need to say.

“I didn’t…” Oh great, your voice had cracked, and now Yuu must know you’re on the verge of crying, because his arms tighten around you and you feel his cheek against the back of your neck. You allow yourself a quick sniffle and wipe your eyes with your blanket. Then you try again. “I didn’t do those things so you would… Yuu, you gotta believe me, I didn’t— ”

“You great big idiot. Of course you didn’t.” Yuu gently turns you around on your side to face him. Between you lies a small and soft bundle. He pushes it into your arms, and you recognize the feeling of the fabric. You hold it to your face and inhale deeply. It smells like a mix of yourself and Yuu.

Yuu wraps you in his embrace. “My first memory of you was this stupid rabbit sweater. You always came into the store wearing this, and you were always buying condoms or something. I thought you were a fucking pervert.”

You let out a watery laugh. You remember walking into the convenience store closest to your house to buy condoms and lube every time Sheril threatened to fuck you dry. You’d seen an Asian dude behind the counter a few times; nobody was likely to forget a face like that. You thought he was pretty hot and someone you would probably try to hook up with, if you had a normal life.

Once, Sheril had kept you locked up in the spare room for two whole days without food and water. Halfway through the second day, pangs of immense pain started to rip through your stomach. You retched and moaned like a wounded animal for hours, pounding weakly at the door, begging and begging and begging. You ran out of the house as best as you could when he finally let you out. All you could think about was a way to stop the pain.

The events of that night were a blur. Somehow, you managed to find your way to the convenience store to seek help. When you came to a few hours later, one of the store workers named Allen gave you a ride back to Sheril’s house. At the gate, you thanked him for helping you.

_“Oh, well, I guess you owe a bigger thanks to Bakanda,”_ was what the white-haired boy said. When you asked who that was, he said a worker named Kanda Yuu was the one who had given you the medical aid you needed. It immediately struck you that the name was Asian, and you had only ever seen one Asian person working there. Your heart was racing like a mad stallion.

That night, when Sheril was inside you and tearing up your insides with searing pain, you had closed your eyes and tried to imagine that you were in the arms of Kanda Yuu, the boy with dark, serious eyes and an unexpected kindness. You wondered how it felt like to be held by someone like that. You imagined soft hands caressing your chest, your thighs, your cock, loving you so deeply that they could touch your very core. After Sheril was gone and you were left curled up like a child, warm cum trickling down the back of your thighs, the vestiges of that imaginary touch was all that gave you the reprieve of sleep.

The next day, when you walked into the store and saw Kanda Yuu at the counter, you wanted to walk right up and kiss his perfect lips. But, that was a fucking joke. You didn’t have that sort of courage. Instead, you looked straight into his eyes for the very first time and smiled, unaware that you were taking a step into a completely different life.

_“Hi. I wanted to thank you for your help that day. My name is Lavi.”_

And now here you are, lying in Yuu’s arms, listening to his heart beat in synch with yours.

“You,” Yuu murmurs, his voice velvety in the dark, “were probably the most annoying bastard I ever had the misfortune to meet, with the exception of Moyashi. I hated how meddlesome and aloof you were, like a fucking puppy that kept snapping at my heels so I would play with you. I could swear you were doing the exact opposite of seducing me.” He presses his lips to your skin. “I didn’t love you out of pity, stupid. Pity is something I have little of to spare, you know this. I love you because…”

Yuu pauses momentarily, and you hold your breath, thinking it is uncertainty, until you feel the heat of his face on your neck and you realize that he’s embarrassed. Fondness for him swells in your chest, and you feel ready to burst at the seams. You stroke the long midnight hair that pours over his shoulders.

“Because…?” you ask with a teasing tone, poking his cheek. He immediately pokes you back in the rib, and you wriggle with a small smile.

“Because you’re so…” His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “You’ve been through so much, but you… you laughed so brightly and so often. You laughed more than anyone I ever knew, dumb rabbit. What the fuck is wrong with you.”

You cannot help it; you laugh aloud, even though you also want to cry.

“ _Mi amor_.” You lean forward to kiss him chastely on the lips. “Yuu. That was the sappiest bullshit I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Yuu groans irritably and kneads your belly with an elbow. You laugh and squirm away, trying to kick his legs. He grabs your waist and pulls you to him. His hands smooth down your hips and dip under the waistline of your pants, and you moan breathily.

When he takes you, you roll your hips eagerly, and no insecurities can touch you when you’re so sure of his love.

 

* * *

 

A week flies by peacefully. Yuu goes back to work at the convenience store after you repeatedly reassure him that you’re okay. During the day, you do the house chores, and then spend a few hours reading, waiting for him to come home for dinner. You shower together afterwards and either watch a movie or have sex.

Today, you put on a cap and your favourite Yoshi bunny sweater to pay Yuu a visit at the store. You discreetly slip in when he has his back turned, so that he turns back around to see you leaning casually against the counter, a box of condoms and lube in front of you, and you say with the most charming grin you have, “Hello, I want these because I’m fucking my gorgeous boyfriend tonight.”

Yuu bumps your head with a fist and you clutch his hand, laughing. He casts a quick glance around the store to make sure there’s nobody around before grabbing you by the collar and kissing you so hard that you shudder in delight.

“When I get home,” he growls softly into your ear, “I want you naked and waiting on the bed with your legs spread and your ass ready for me, do you understand?”

The gravelly desire in his command almost brings you to your knees. You kiss him passionately again. “You bet, baby,” you whisper back, even though you want nothing more than to take his cock in your mouth right now, and you wonder how you’re going to last till tonight.

Yuu’s rare grin is feral when he pulls back. “Good rabbit,” he says, giving you a last pet on the head before pushing you away. “I’m at work now, so bugger off.”

You jiggle the box of condoms cheekily at him and put it in your pocket before leaving the store. It’s almost five o’clock; Yuu will be done with his shift in just a few hours. You idle along the road, head filled with thoughts of how you’re going to please him tonight.

A car screeches to a stop beside you. You jump a little and look up, but suddenly, everything goes black and strong hands clamp onto your arms, twisting them behind your back. Your heart goes into panic overdive. You try to scream, but a hand is clamped over your mouth and you’re muffled. You struggle with every ounce of your strength, even as you feel yourself being pushed into the car. The door slams shut and you’re squeezed between the bodies of your abductors as the car starts to move. You want to ask who they are, but you’re scared speechless; it’s all you can do to focus on taking breath after breath.

“It’s been a few years, hasn’t it, boy?”

You freeze in terror.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it laughing when Sheril was beating you, raping you. Sometimes it even appears in your nightmares, an accessory to the horrors that resurface in your memory.  

_“Louder, boy. Brother likes to hear your sweet cries.”_

You open your mouth, and his name stumbles out.

“ _Tyki_.”

And he laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart hurts too ;; Again, thanks for all ye kudos and comments! Till the next part!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all can holler at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/suicidetoro), I post bits of writing and art for Laviyuu, Voltron and other fandoms. Peace!


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